


Thy Fearful Symmetry

by Laine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Kink Meme, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 20:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laine/pseuds/Laine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa likes falling asleep between them afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thy Fearful Symmetry

Softness everywhere- the feather mattress beneath her, the linens twisted around her legs...even the air feels soft, nestling her into its warmth, a beautiful melange of scents wafting into her nostrils.   
  
But nothing can compare to the softness of Cersei’s bosom beneath her cheek. The Queen’s breasts are bare, full and round and milky-white, with small pink peaks at the center. Sometimes, Sansa will latch her mouth to one of the rosy tips, suckling like an infant would. And Cersei will stroke her hair, and she’ll close her eyes and imagine herself back, back before the world became hard and complicated, back to being just a little baby at her mother’s breast.    
  
But she isn’t to be a baby tonight, she reminds herself as Cersei bends her head to kiss the girl’s swollen lips, the caress gentle and tantalizing. She’s a woman, a Princess, beautiful and desirable, entangled in the embrace of not one glorious, golden-haired lover, but two.   
  
She feels him behind her, a wall of warm skin and hard muscle- but although she’d touched and been touched, although he’d licked between her legs and left pink blooms on her breasts and clavicle, Sansa still feels a bit nervous about Ser Jaime in these vulnerable moments afterward. His maleness is at least partly to blame; the only other man she’s ever been with is Joffrey, and those evenings in her husband’s chambers are reason enough to fear a man’s touch on her. But more than that is the burning, the strange sensation that creeps into her stomach and tickles between her thighs at the feel of his stubble scraping her skin, his hardness pressing against her hips and backside. It’s entirely different from the yearning she feels for the Queen, and Sansa can’t help but feel rather more comfortable with the familiarity of the latter.   
  
Cersei leans over to blow out the single candle before wrapping Sansa in her arms and holding her close. “Sleep now, sweetling.”   
  
These are the nights Sansa cherishes most of all. Sometimes the Queen will dismiss her and Ser Jaime, and the two will walk to the Prince’s chambers in awkward silence, Jaime taking his position by the door while Sansa enters, a hard pit forming at the base of her belly as she waits for her husband to return.    
  
But Joffrey is occupied tonight- with what, Sansa does not know, nor does she care (although she can’t help but spare some pity for whichever unlucky kitchen maid or concubine keeps him company). And in his absence, she is entirely free to bury her face in Cersei’s perfect breasts, to inhale the scent of lemons and rosewater, to lean her back against Jaime’s chest and drift into a hazy, pleasant slumber.   
  
She wakes in the night to a push from both sides. A little flutter of panic disrupts her heartbeat- she’s wedged tight between the two Lannisters, tight enough to squeeze her lungs and nearly cut off her air supply.    
  
Jaime and Cersei clutch each other over Sansa’s body, hands gripping wrists, ankles twisted in ankles. Cersei’s groin presses against Sansa’s- slick and wet, even as she sleeps- and Jaime’s cock prods her backside, half-hard already and growing by the moment.    
  
A part of her relishes the closeness, and yet she cannot shake a sense of discordance, a sense of dissonance. She feels nearly like an intruder, venturing somewhere she doesn’t belong, standing in the way of something that has nothing to do with her at all.    
  
The discomfort is enough to make her shift down on the mattress in an effort to squirm her way out from between their bodies. But she only makes it an inch or two before the twins move their hands in perfect concert, no longer touching each others’ skin, but instead stroking Sansa’s. Cersei’s hand gently cups the girl’s breast, and she sighs- then there are lips on her brow, a mouth softly sucking at the join between her neck and shoulder. Dizzy with warmth and desire and a need for exploration, Sansa pushes her arse back against Jaime, biting her lips to keep from moaning at the feel of his stiffness.    
  
But they still sleep, and they’re too beautiful to wake. And so she closes her eyes and joins them again, a smile on her lips as she wonders whether any dream could possibly compare to this.   
  
The dream begins abruptly, with a gust of cool air against her front side. She finds herself still in the bed, but Cersei’s body is not below her head- only a lingering bit of heat remains in the imprint pressed on the mattress. Moonlight pours through the casement, bathing the room in an ethereal wash of silver.    
  
The mattress moves, and Sansa hears soft, breathless sounds behind her. She turns her head to look-   
  
_It’s a dream, such a peculiar dream_ , she says to herself again and again as she watches, utterly transfixed. The beautiful golden Queen straddles her equally-beautiful golden brother, both of them shining in the silver light- _bright, bright._   
  
Cersei rocks her pelvis into Jaime, taking his cock deep inside her- she tosses her hair back, a waterfall of sunshine, and she moans his name, letting the syllables linger in her mouth. Jaime echoes her own name back to her, his palms tracing the curve of her hip, skimming upward to grip her narrow waist.    
  
It’s so beautiful, the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Sansa slips her hand between her legs-  _it’s a dream, it’s a dream_ \- and watches the Queen trace her soft fingertips over her own clit before touching herself in perfect time.    
  
She lies beside the coupling twins and mirrors their every movement- when Jaime reaches up to squeeze Cersei’s breasts, Sansa takes her own in hand; when he pulls Cersei down to suck her nipples, Sansa licks her fingertips and pinches herself until her peaks are taut and red.    
  
The three find their climaxes together- Cersei and Jaime ravage each others’ mouths in a savage kiss as they moan their releases, and Sansa turns her face into the rose-and-lemon scented pillow, her inner muscles contracting around her fingers.    
  
She folds her hands under her cheek after, the scent of her arousal still clinging to her fingers, and turns onto her side.  _Such a peculiar dream._   
  
When she wakes, Sansa finds herself lying on her other side, wrapped fully in Jaime Lannister’s arms.    
  
This somehow feels far more intimate than any other contact they’ve had, and she starts to fidget with nerves- he’s even more beautiful in the light of dawn, a slumbering lion, and then he tightens his arms around her and pulls her tight, and Gods, how she aches..   
  
He kisses her, eyes still closed, his lips curved up into a smile as he whispers a light “s” sound. He opens his eyes slowly, and Sansa’s stomach flips at the sight of brilliant green-   
  
And then he loosens his grip on her, blinking with bemusement, his gaze at once clouded with something that looks dangerously like disappointment. Images flash through Sansa’s mind-  _it was a dream, just a wild dream_ \- and she abruptly turns her body and tries to retreat to Cersei- Cersei, who always smiles when she wakes to find Sansa in her arms.    
  
But she barely manages to twist her shoulders away before Jaime scoops her back into his embrace. Her heart thumps against his chest as he twines a lock of her hair around his finger and speaks in a rough, gravelly whisper-   
  
“I’ve always liked the look of red hair on women.”    
  
And he is so, so close, his lips hovering over hers, green cat’s eyes scanning her face with ill-concealed appraisal.    
  
He speaks again, and his words knock the breath out of her-   
  
“You really do look a great deal like your mother.”   
  
She feels herself shrinking, smaller and smaller-  _I want to be a baby again, just a little baby at my mother’s breast_ \- she wraps a sheet around her to hide her nakedness, casting her face down to escape those eyes-   
  
But then a large, calloused hand cups her cheek and draws her up, and he kisses her and kisses her and kisses her. At once, she’s a woman again; her arms twine around his neck, her legs twine around his waist. It is nothing like being trapped under Joffrey, holding her breath as she waits for him to push and prod and grasp and hurt. Jaime is firm but not rough, and Sansa feels aroused rather than frightened by his size and strength.    
  
She rakes her fingers through his hair, releasing a little moan at the way her breasts press against the muscles of his chest. He smells of musk and sweat and  _man_  (and lemon and rosewater, but surely that’s only because they lie on Cersei’s sheets...).   
  
He rocks his hips into her, and she bites down on his lip- he growls and does it again, his hard cock brushing over her wetness. The burning in her belly grows until she’s sure her skin will sear- she’s never wanted like this before, and she’s practically drunk with it, giddy and brazen-   
  
Suddenly, a stirring from her other side, and Cersei sits up from her pillows and stares at her bedmates. Her lovely eyes flash with something hard and brutal, and Sansa feels a twinge of panic.  _She’s angry_ , the girl realizes.  _She does not like to be left out._   
  
Cersei quickly assumes her usual position of authority; she dips her head to suckle Sansa’s breasts, she lifts the girl’s hips and tells her when to guide Jaime into her, she moves behind her brother and kneads his back to dictate the rhythm of his thrusts.    
  
(Sansa catches her eye again then, and in spite of the determination and desire building in the verdant depths, she sees that the flint hasn’t disappeared.)   
  
She nearly cries Jaime’s name when she comes, but some instinct tells her that it would be ill-advised. And so she only sighs light and high, the sound vanishing into Cersei’s mouth when the Queen presses a forceful kiss to Sansa’s lips.   
  
The sun rises higher in the sky, and Jaime and Sansa quickly dress and make ready to return to their own chambers. Cersei embraces her good-daughter before she leaves- the scent of Jaime’s sweat covers her, although she’d barely touched him ( _a dream....?_ ). In spite of the pleasurable softness of the other woman’s body, Sansa breaks away as soon as she can, and she leaves without looking Cersei in the eye.   
  
The Princess will never again receive an invitation to stay in the Queen’s chambers.

 

  
  



End file.
